


It Grows in the Shadows of Things

by Someone_aka_Me



Series: Soulmate AUs [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Growing Up, M/M, Soulmates, because Nott Sr is a jerk in this fic, mentions of familial abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:18:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4202454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Someone_aka_Me/pseuds/Someone_aka_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaise doesn't know how to love. Theo doesn't know how to stop loving. Yet, for some reason, the universe, or whatever determines colour soul mates, has decided they belong together. :: AU where people are colourblind until they find their soulmates. BlaiseTheo, very brief ending statement of CharlieDraco</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Grows in the Shadows of Things

**Author's Note:**

> Compliant with my fic Colourblind, but each stands alone.
> 
> For Amber, because Amber deserves all the things.
> 
> Thanks to my dearest Sam, without whom a) this would not exist, and b) this would not be finished.
> 
> Warning for familial abuse and a fade-to-black sex implication.
> 
> **the first poem referenced is “Caged Bird” by Maya Angelou. The second is the Hollow Men by TS Elliot.
> 
> .

When Blaise is eleven, they test him. First a spell, then numbers and letters on colourful little cards that he's supposed to identify. The test is laughably easy, but his mother doesn't look pleased that he's doing well.

When the woman is finished, she packs up her little cards and talks to his mother. "Your assumption was right," the woman says. "He sees in full colour."

His mother's eyebrows scrunch up in angry lines. "This cannot be," she says. Her tone, usually so measured and calm, slips into something resembling fury. She turns away, and Blaise cannot see her face any longer. "I knew they were nothing but a foolish dream," she says.

Blaise doesn't understand.

He will eventually figure out that this moment was when the very last of his mother's belief in love died. She had long ago stopped hoping for herself, but that moment was when she stopped hoping for him to find happiness in love either.

At the time, though, he knows none of that. He writes the moment off as peculiar but unsolvable with his current information.

.

He doesn't understand the moment at all until he goes to Hogwarts. It's the first thing Pansy Parkinson asks everyone, the first night in the Slytherin common room.

"Do you see them, Draco?" she starts. Draco shakes his head. Pansy smirks slightly.

"Me either," she says. "What about you, Blaise?"

Blaise doesn't know what's happening. He has no idea what she's talking about. He wonders if it's the same as the woman who told his mother he "sees colour" but never explained what that meant.

Blaise tried to ask his mother, later. She told him to stop questioning it. It was the first time she ever refused to answer an inquiry. He tried to research it, after, but he didn't know what he was supposed to be researching.

He thinks about Pansy's question, and he decides that the safest answer is no. Pansy hadn't questioned Draco any further, after all. If he says yes, she might ask more questions. Silently, he shakes his head. Pansy raises her eyebrows at him, then turns to the boy beside him.

"What about you, Theo? Do you see them?"

Theo is a small boy with brown hair. He's lean and short enough that he could disappear entirely behind Blaise. Blaise doesn't remember ever seeing him before. Not at any of the social events before Hogwarts. This is unusual.

"See what?" Theo asks. Blaise is both grateful that he isn't alone in not knowing, grateful that someone will understand, and furious that this boy doesn't know that being a Slytherin means playing your cards close to your chest.  _Never reveal what you don't know_.

"The colours," Pansy says, like she thinks Theo might be dull. "The colours that you start to see when you touch your soulmate? Surely you were tested."

"The test with all the numbers? That was simple. Are you saying that all of you failed?"

Blaise is struck by the urge to hit the boy upside the head.  _You don't call people you just met failures, you damned fool._

"If it was so  _easy_  for you, then who's your soulmate?" Pansy is clearly peeved. Blaise is not surprised.

"My what?"

"Your  _soulmate_. The person you were touching when the colours started?"

Theo blinks. His confusion is painted in the lines of his forehead, his eyebrows. Blaise wants to smooth them out, teach this boy to keep his heart on the inside. He's not sure why he cares.

"I've always been able to see them."

Pansy's anger is melting into intrigue.

"Are you not betrothed?"

Theo shakes his head. Pansy's eyes glitter with something menacing, something that Blaise doesn't like.

"Ooooh. I bet your colour mate is someone your parents don't approve of, then. Maybe she's a  _Muggle_."

"Is not!" Theo says. He may not understand what's going on entirely, but he knows enough to be offended by the implication.

"Is  _too_ ," Pansy says. "Muggle lover!" She looks please with herself, and, having accomplished that, she moves on. "What about you, Daphne?"

Blaise, though, Blaise is still looking at Theo. The boy looks hurt, and for some reason that bothers Blaise.

.

Blaise never really meant to become best friends with Theodore Nott. The kid doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut, and Blaise spends about half his time furious at him. But Theo's got this stupid little puppy dog face and… goddammit, without Blaise around he's going to get himself killed for saying the wrong thing to the wrong person.

Blaise doesn't want that kind of responsibility. He never really means to make friends at all — his mother gets along fine without friends. Blaise is used to it being the two of them (plus her husband of the week, but they never last and don't matter). He's used to her telling him not to get attached, because attachments are weaknesses. Blaise isn't weak. He's her strong, beautiful,  _independent_  son. Blaise doesn't need anyone.

Theo needs people. Theo can barely get out of bed in the morning unless Blaise pelts him with a pillow. Some days, he forgets to eat unless Blaise reminds him. He needs constant reminders that people are there — he's touchy-feely and he  _hates_  being alone.

Blaise is particular about who can touch him. It's a matter of trust.

And yet somehow when 11-year-old Theo crawls his way into Blaise's four-poster and says he's afraid of being alone, Blaise lets him stay. He doesn't stop himself from murmuring, "You idiot," into Theo's curls, but he also doesn't make him go. Not until morning, just before the other boys begin to stir.

.

Before they leave for the summer, Blaise makes Theo promise not to write unless it's an emergency. His mother will not approve of Blaise's attachment, his weakness. He doesn't expect Theo's family to be much better, considering the Zabini's aren't… his mother's reputation follows him everywhere. They will not trust him with their son. Maybe they shouldn't. Theo is something precious, and Blaise isn't sure how to keep from breaking him. He is afraid that he might be too much his mother's son.

.

Yet, when Theo invites him to come home with him over the Christmas Holidays their second year, Blaise says yes. He says yes, because he can't bear to crush the look of hope on Theo's face (and maybe that means he isn't his mother's son, but Blaise isn't sure how he ever knows for sure).

Theo grips his hand tightly as the Floo flares up around them, and they step out into the living room.

Blaise watches Theo's face fall as he realizes his father hasn't come to greet them. Theo gestures at a place where they drop their bags, then he drags Blaise after him through the rooms, until suddenly he slows. He shakes himself, straightens. He clutches Blaise's hand tighter. Blaise tries to loosen Theo's grip, but Theo's slim arms are stronger than they look.

Blaise leaves it be, tugging his robes straighter and composing his features before stepping in as Theo does.

Mr. Nott is a slim, towering man who makes Blaise wonder for the first time if Theo will eventually be taller than him. His hair is combed so that not a single hair falls out of place. As he turns to them, his face is stern, but it swiftly morphs into rage.

"What is this, Theodore?" His voice is cold as ice and just as hard — and quiet. Blaise resists the urge to step backward. He feels Theo grip his hand tighter.

"Father, this is my friend Blaise Zabini. He's the friend who will be staying with us over Christmas?" Blaise can tell Theo doesn't mean it to come out as a question, but his voice cracks a bit at the end.

Mr. Nott's face shifts to match the temperature of his voice. The entire air of the room seems to drop several degrees. "He will  _not_. I will  _not_  have this sort of, of  _freakishness_  in my house." He turns to Blaise. "You will leave.  _Now_.  _Never_  contact my son ever again. I don't want to see your face, I don't want to  _hear your name_. Out!"

He waves his hand, and doors slam open, clearly marking a path to the door. Blaise looks at Theo, sees the terror written there. He pulls his hand away from Theo's, hates the way Theo's face crumbles in pain. Blaise promises himself that he will apologize.

He does not go back for his bag of things. He turns on his heel and flees.

As he does so, he hears that icy voice. "How could you, Theodore? You are a  _disgrace_  to this family, a  _shame…"_

The last thing Blaise hears sounds too much like the crack of a palm against skin.

.

Blaise stands in the snow for a moment, outside the Nott residence, shivering. His robes are too thin for an unexpected trip through the weather. He closes his eyes and pulls in a breath that burns his lungs with the cold. Around him, he can feel the subtle thrum of wards.

For once in his life, Blaise isn't sure what to do. He has no Floo access. He's far too young to Apparate. He's knutless — he can't ask the Knight Bus for help. His mother has no idea where the Nott residence even  _is_ , let alone that he may be stuck here. She's probably not even  _home_.

Blaise isn't sure how long he stands there. Long enough that he stops feeling the cold, which probably isn't a good thing. He's contemplating begging the Knight Bus to take him anyway and hoping that his mother will pay on the other end, but he doubts they would and the idea of begging  _hurts_.

"Not even a warming charm?" he hears from behind him. Blaise whirls around to find Theo, little Theo standing there, holding out a bag of sickles. Theo's face is marred with red marks, and he's shaking.

Blaise strides over to him, inspecting his face carefully. "Thee, are you all right?"

A corner of Theo's mouth twists wryly. "This? This is nothing." He shrugs, then thrusts the bag at Blaise. "Take it. And… go. Quickly. He'll figure out where I've gone in a moment."

Blaise blinks at him. Some days, he wonders if Theo should've been a Gryffindor. Blaise takes the bag, and Theo throws himself at Blaise, wrapping his arms around his waist. "I'm sorry," he says, softly, and then he's gone as though he were never there.

Blaise stares at the place Theo disappeared from for a moment. He tells himself that the red spots in the snow are a figment of his imagination. It's the only way he can make himself spin around and head for the end of the wards, the Knight Bus, and home.

.

The house is empty. Blaise fetches himself a Pepperup Potion and contemplates, for a time, whether or not he should ask his mother about what happened.

In the end, when she comes home, three days later, it turns out she actually does remember that he isn't supposed to be there, and she asks.

So he asks back.

"Mother, why does Mr. Nott hate me?" he says, when she asks why he isn't at his friend's.

He watches color leach out of her face.

"Darling, you didn't tell me your new friend was the Nott boy." Her voice is composed, as always. Only Blaise, who knows her so well, would be able to detect the unsteadiness.

She's keeping something from him. She never keeps things from him.

"Theodore Nott, yes. His father kicked me out."

"Did he, now?" She turns away from him. "The Notts are a bad sort, love. This just shows it. I think perhaps you ought to stop… associating with this Theodore. I'm sure you can find better allies."

Blaise doesn't dare tell her he  _likes_  Theo, that he doesn't  _want_  new allies. Desires are weakness.

And he recognizes that her request is not a request at all. It's a demand. It's something his mother expects to be followed without question.

Blaise doesn't intend to follow it. Not if no one will tell him the real reason they want to keep him away from Theo.

.

When he gets back to the Hogwarts Express, he arrives before Theo. He picks a compartment and tries not to twitch as he waits. The minutes stretch into infinities as Blaise waits. Finally, Theo slips through the door. He clicks the lock behind him and draws the curtains.

When he turns to face Blaise, Blaise can see the edging up of a yellow smear at his collarbone — the edge of a healing bruise. Blaise feels his muscles tighten, sees Theo flinch in response. He forces his fists to loosen, gestures for Theo to sit beside him.

"I'm sorry," Blaise says. It might very well be the first time he's ever meant an apology. "Are you all right?"

Theo gapes at him like Blaise is some sort of foreign thing he doesn't understand. Then, he hurls himself at Blaise, wrapping his arms ferociously around his chest. Theo is shaking, and it takes Blaise a moment to figure out that it's hysterical laughter. Worryingly hysterical. Blaise pulls his arms into action, wrapping them around Theo tightly. Theo hisses in pain, and Blaise loosens his grip as Theo's laughter morphs into sobs.

Blaise… isn't really sure what to do with this. "What can I do?" he eventually asks. Theo doesn't reply, so Blaise gives up and continues to hold him awkwardly.

The sobs fade into silence after a few minutes, but Theo doesn't stop clinging to him.

"Why are  _you_  sorry?" Theo eventually asks. "My dad kicked you out into the snow with no stuff and no way to get home. I nicked your bag, by the way. It's inside mine."

Blaise lifts a hand and traces the yellowed mark at Theo's collarbone. He tugs it lower, sees the yellow is only the tip of a veritable iceberg of still-healing marks, yellow scattered like paint across Theo's torso.

"He did this to you. Because of me."

Blaise can tell by the look in Theo's eyes that Theo wants to say that isn't true, but he can't.

"That doesn't make it your fault," Theo settles on eventually. "It's not something you have to apologize for."

"Has it happened before?" Blaise's voice comes out low and dangerous — more than he meant it to. He tries again. "Has it happened before?"

Theo doesn't meet Blaise's eyes as he shakes his head. "It's not… It's only if he gets  _really_ angry. Usually he just gets quiet and scary. Cat — Caterina, my sister — Cat says I just make him mad. She says I need to learn when to shut up." Theo tips his head up, somber hazel eyes meeting Blaise's. "He wants me to be his perfect heir, Blaise, but I'm not sure I know how to do that."

Theo rolls over, lands in the seat next to Blaise. "I asked Cat about… about why." He stares at his pale hands as they twist together on his lap. "She said we were soulmates. Said we triggered when we were too young to remember, and they separated us. I told her that couldn't be true — you said you don't see the colours. She laughed at me and said everyone lies." Theo looks like he might cry. "I don't know what to believe anymore, Blaise."

And really, as soon as Theo has said it, it seems the only obvious solution. This is why everyone wants to keep them apart. "I see them, Theo," Blaise admits softly. "I've always seen them. I told Pansy I didn't because I didn't want to answer her questions."

Theo's gaze snaps up to meet his. "I… what? Really?"

"I didn't think it would be important. I didn't realize..." Blaise has been thinking about it since Theo said the words. He thinks he started suspecting it before then, even if he hadn't wanted to acknowledge it. There isn't proof, but still Blaise finds he doesn't doubt it. It's the only thing that makes all of the puzzle pieces fit together in the way that they should.

Theo, however, isn't quite as easily convinced.

"But... Boys can't be soulmates, colour mates… can they?"

This is not where Blaise expected Theo to have an issue.

For the first time, Blaise realizes what it means that Theo grew up without his mother, with a stiff, imposing father who offered up no information and allowed no questions.

Blaise's mother never explains anything twice, but never hesitates to explain it once. She has impeccable standards. Composure is expected at all times, yet curiosity was encouraged - as long as he sought the answers independently or asked her personally, instead of exposing ignorance to others.

Theo never had anyone to ask. Theo probably rarely knew what he was supposed to be asking.

Blaise isn't sure he's the right person to explain this. But Theo doesn't have anyone else.

"It's why they want to keep us apart, Thee." Blaise measures his words carefully. "Soulmates typically fall in love, eventually. Men  _can_  love one another in the same way that men and women do. But it isn't something they… approve of. It's rooted deeply in the desire for an heir, to keep the family line strong. But it became… a lot more about hatred for something they don't understand, somewhere along the line." He looks at Theo. "It's not something they'll ever accept. And that means our friendship is not something they'll ever accept, because they'll never believe that nothing else is there. Even if nothing else is."

Theo takes this all in with uncharacteristic silence. Eventually, slowly, he nods. "I understand."

Blaise searches his face, but for once, he can't find any signs of what Theo is thinking.

"I can find a different compartment?" Blaise offers after a long moment. Before he's done with the sentence, Theo's hand has snapped out to grab his wrist. His grip is tight, almost desperate.

"Don't you dare leave." His eyes are wide. They convey the silent  _please._

"Do you understand what this means? They can  _never know_. It means silence and secrecy and subtlety, and all of that will  _tear you apart_ , Theo. And  _when does it end?_ "

Blaise doesn't want to go. But he can't help but think it'll be better for the both of them if he does.

"I'm not losing you," Theo says fiercely. "I can't. I don't… I don't know what I'd do. You're my best friend, Blaise, and maybe it's supposed to be something more and maybe it isn't, but that doesn't  _matter_. What will come will come. I'm not facing it without you."

Theo's sense of self preservation is so peculiarly formed. While Blaise was taught to make himself impenetrable by ensuring there is nothing he can't live without, Theo finds the things he can't live without and clings to them harder. He makes sure no one can take them from him, no matter the cost. It's stupid, because it gets him hurt, but Blaise thinks it's also kind of beautiful. He forces the world to work around him instead of shaping himself to fit in the world.

He's a damned fool, but if he's not going to walk away from this, then neither will Blaise, because for all his self-preservation instincts, he can't bear to see Theo hurt.

.

It becomes a friendship hidden in glances and behind the curtains of their four-posters. For Blaise, this is simple. Blaise is naturally discrete. Theo struggles.

He tells Blaise that he's told Malfoy that they're colour-mates. Blaise keeps his face calm, but he is afraid. Draco has no reason to keep Theo's secrets, and Blaise honestly doesn't expect him to. This can only end in Theo getting hurt.

At the same time, the slip teaches Blaise something he hadn't realized. Theo needs a confidant. He needs someone to talk to, someone who isn't Blaise. Blaise isn't sure  _Malfoy_ is the best choice, but it's Theo's choice and he's made it.

It's a reminder that Theo is different, that Theo may have self-preservation (peculiar as it is) and deep seated ambition (the damned fool wants to change the world, and nothing will stop him) which make him a Slytherin, but that doesn't make him like Blaise. Blaise was raised to be diamond — raised under pressures strong enough to ensure he could withstand anything. Theo was raised by a half-present father from whom he never knew what to expect and a sister not enough years older to take responsibility. He clings to people because he never knows if anyone will stay if he doesn't make them.

Blaise is just glad Theo trusts him enough to tell him that he's told Malfoy.

.

Months slip by. The snow melts. Theo and Blaise find hidden corners and empty classrooms and abandoned shelves in the library.

Draco surprises Blaise. No one finds out that Blaise and Theo are colour mates.

But summer is coming, and Theo doesn't know how to deal with three months of no communication with his best friend.

It makes Blaise ache to suggest it, but he tells Theo to ask Draco for help. To address the outside of letters with Blaise's name and send his owl to Theo, so that Theo can fill the insides with his own words and their parents will never know.

Blaise doesn't like to ask for help, but he'll allow the reliance on another, just because it's for Theo.

After Theo asks, Draco approaches Blaise, sitting beside him in the near empty common room late one night.

"I wouldn't do it for just anyone," he says, after a moment of silence.

Blaise looks at him, then looks ahead. "I think Theo makes us both do things we wouldn't, normally." It's a big admission, for him. It's a sign of trust. Trust Blaise figures Draco has earned.

Draco steeples his hands together. "Theo is… different, from you or I." He sighs. "He's a lot more breakable."

Blaise begins to wonder if this is the threatening protector conversation: hurt him and you die. He suspects it might be Draco's version.

Draco picks his words carefully. "If something were to happen to him, that would be rather… unfortunate. For whoever caused it."

Definitely Draco's version of the intimidation speech, then.

Blaise looks over at Draco, who is staring ahead resolutely. "It would indeed," he says calmly. He pauses for a moment. "Thank you," he says. It's for helping them and for caring about Theo, but Blaise won't say either of those things. Instead, he just stands and walks across the stone floors to their dormitory.

.

The first time Blaise realizes he's starting to care about Theo in a way other than as his best friend, it's their fourth year. Christmas. Blaise is thinking about the Yule Ball but the only one he wants to ask is the one person he absolutely can't.

He wonders what it would feel like, to hold Theo in his arms and dance with him in front of everyone. He shoves the wonderment away — that way madness lies. It's not worth thinking about things that will never happen.

He can't help but think that Theo deserves better than this. Theo deserves better than secrecy and lies and dark corners. He deserves better than Blaise, who still isn't sure he knows how to love because it's the one thing his mother would never teach him.

He cares about Theo, likes him. But Blaise might be falling, and he doesn't know how to love him. Doesn't know if he's even capable of loving him.

He doesn't expect Theo to ask him quietly to accompany him into the fairy-lit gardens. He doesn't expect Theo to keep careful distance between them until they disappear into the darkness, and then take his hand after they vanish among the hedges. He doesn't expect Theo to pull him into the small alcove created by the plants and then reach up, placing a slim hand on Blaise's cheek.

He really doesn't expect Theo to look up at him, eyes shining in the fairy-lights, and say, "I'd really like to kiss you now, if that's all right."

A small part of Blaise is screaming that anyone could walk past. A bigger part of him is focused on Theo's warmth on his cheek and the brightness in Theo's eyes and how much he just doesn't want to say no. He winds up nodding.

Theo, who has grown several inches and is finally catching up to Blaise, stretches his neck up just enough as Blaise ducks his head. They fumble for a minute, trying to fix the angle. Theo's hand slips down to curl around Blaise's neck. Finally, they get it right and their lips meet. Blaise's eyes slide closed. After a moment, they separate. Blaise opens his eyes and rests his forehead on Theo's. At some point, his hands came up to rest on Theo's hips. Theo's other hand is on Blaise's shoulder.

"Theo," Blaise breathes out. Theo's lips curve up into a very satisfied smile.

It's so much more than Blaise ever expected out of the Ball.

.

For a few months, things are good. Better than good. Then the last task ends with Harry Potter yelling about how Lord Voldemort is back and everything is quickly shot to hell.

Because Potter isn't wrong. This means that Theo can owl "Draco" as often as he wants over the summer, but Blaise can't. Blaise's mother tells him, the first time she sees him, that he needs to be careful about who he associates with in the coming months.

"You, my son, are in the enviable position of balancing on a knife's edge until it becomes clear which way this battle is going to tip. Don't commit yourself, because you could commit to the losing side. But neither can you afford to alienate anyone."

They get a few letters through by telling Draco's eagle owl, Polaris, to only deliver them if Blaise is alone, but Theo writes little and then the letters stop coming.

Blaise worries. The silence isn't like Theo.

Theo never talks about it, but Blaise knows that his father was a Death Eater in the first war, which means he's probably involved this time as well.

Blaise doesn't know how Theo will react to the pressures, in honestly. Theo has a gentle soul. He doesn't think Theo would hesitate to tear into someone who had earned it, but at the same time he's not sure Theo can stand to hurt someone who is innocent, even if it is in his own defense.

Blaise is afraid of how much that might cost him.

.

He finds Theo alone in a compartment, staring out the window.

"Thee?" Blaise asks. His voice is soft. He is afraid of putting any pressure on Theo, afraid that fracture lines might already be forming.

Theo doesn't say anything, doesn't turn until he hears the click of the door locking and the draw of the shade.

Blaise barely holds in a gasp.

Theo's eye is swollen. The bruise around it is a mottled marring of red and blue and dark purple. An older, yellow smear runs across the other cheek.

Blaise realizes that he is shaking with a combination of grief and anger. He closes his eyes, bringing himself under control enough that the shaking stops. Feigning calm until he can manage it for real, he turns away from Theo and stores his trunk on the shelves.

He sits on the same bench as Theo, a careful distance away.

"I would kill him, if you asked me to." It's really probably not the best way to start the conversation, but it is also a pure truth. Blaise would. Theo wouldn't even have to ask.

"Please don't," Theo says shakily. He stares at his hands.

Blaise pulls a breath in through his nose. He can't say he didn't expect that answer. Theo's family is his weakness. He loves them, because he's Theo and he gives love without needing it to be deserved.

Blaise redirects the conversation, hoping he'll feel less like shaking Theo.

"What happened?"

Theo's voice is so small and so shaky. "My father wanted to prove his allegiance to the Dark Lord by proving mine." He shakes his head slightly. "But I'll never be anything but his disappointment."

"Can I fix them?" Blaise asks. He'd taught himself healing spells after the horror that was their Christmas second year. He never wanted to need them.

Theo nods, minutely, but it doesn't stop him from flinching slightly when Blaise points his wand at him. The anger in the pit of Blaise's stomach grows.

As Blaise casts spells and the bruises across Theo's face slip away, Theo talks.

"He wanted me to torture them. The Muggles. He'd captured them, and he told me I could do whatever I wanted as long as I made them suffer." Theo finally brings his eyes up from his hands, which are still twisting together in his lap. "She looked so scared, Blaise. She was maybe 10 years old, and she looked so  _scared_ , and all I could think was that she didn't deserve it."

Blaise runs his fingers softly over Theo's now-pale cheek.

"Neither do you," he says.

Theo shrugs. "At least I had a  _choice_."

"And you chose  _pain?_ " Blaise drops his hand, stands up and turns away. "And what did it help, Theo? Did your stupid  _rebellion_  make your father come to his senses and let her go?" He whirls back around to face Theo. "Did it?"

Theo won't look up. He shakes his head.

Blaise pinches his lips together for a moment. "That's what I thought. You gained nothing but bruises, and she was probably hurt  _worse_."

Theo flinches, just enough to give Blaise pause, but he can't stop. He's  _angry_.

"You need to think about  _consequences_ , Theo!"

"I was!" Theo finally snaps back. "I  _was_  thinking about consequences, and I was thinking about the cost if I had done it. I was thinking about  _guilt_."

"Oh, get over yourself. Guilt is a construct, a product of weakness, something for people who think they're  _righteous_."

"It's called having a  _conscience_! Not that you'd know!"

"Don't make this about me," Blaise says, stepping forward.

Theo stands, his fury in ever taut muscle of his body. "It  _is_  about you! It's about the fact that you can't be  _supportive_  of my efforts to, oh, I don't know,  _not. Be. Evil!"_

"Just because I don't want to see you hurt, that makes me  _evil_  now?" And yes, that one actually hurt a bit.

Theo deflates at that, his shoulders collapsing like a dying star. "That's not… Blaise, you're asking me to be like  _him_ , and I can't do that."

Blaise turns toward the door and places a hand on the handle of his messenger bag.

"Well, I can't watch you destroy yourself in some foolish attempt at righteousness."

He wants to apologize, and it almost slips out, but he stops it, unlatching the door and slinging his bag over his shoulder. He doesn't let himself turn around.

There are no empty compartments remaining, and Blaise doesn't really have any other friends. He finds a spot with only two firsties not yet wearing their robes. He doesn't ask, just sits and then gives the pair a death glare when they try to talk to him. He sinks into the seat and tries not to think about anything.

.

He finds frogspawn in his bed the first week of class. He's pretty sure that's Draco's doing.

He's not entirely sure he doesn't deserve it. And much worse.

He's also not sure staying would've been better. For either of them.

.

It hurts more than he expects it to. Being apart from Theo and yet so very close. Knowing he is  _right there_  but not being able to reach out and close that gap.

Blaise reminds himself that it was his own choice. He reminds himself that he was the one who walked away. He reminds himself that caring is a weakness, and that he's stronger alone.

He doesn't feel stronger. He feels like something is missing.

He has traded one kind of pain for another, but he reminds himself that this pain will heal. Watching Theo self-destruct would be a wound that would open itself over and over and over again.

.

By the time summer comes again, Blaise is used to being alone. He has perfected looking stoic and unimpressed with everything.

He is not lonely.

He is not.

He steps off the train, finished with his fifth year of school, certain he'll receive OWLs for every subject he took.

He is everything his mother ever wanted him to become.

.

He spends the summer teaching himself useful offensive and defensive spells. It's not like he has much else to do.

Then the summer ends.

.

The summer changes Theo. When he comes back, his easy smile has been replaced with a cool, contemplative mask. His heart, which he has never shielded, is now covered in a layer of calcification. He is more a Slytherin than he has ever been before.

This is not what Blaise wanted for Theo. For him to protect himself, yes. But not for him to become something he is not.

At least he is alive.

Then Blaise notices that Theo is putting silencing spells on the curtains of his four poster at nights. Every night.

Blaise thinks of Theo, bright, gregarious Theo, who has always sought out others, instead closing himself off from the world. Theo is hiding.

It makes something in Blaise ache fiercely.

He wants to curl between the curtains and cradle Theo to his chest and never let go. He wants this so badly and so suddenly that it feels like someone has punched him in the stomach.

And it doesn't matter how much time he has spent convincing himself that he doesn't miss Theo Nott. It doesn't matter.

Blaise cares. And maybe it is his greatest weakness, and maybe it will be the thing that breaks him, but it doesn't seem to matter because Theo, goddamn him, Theo didn't  _sneak_ past the walls around his heart, no. Theo took a  _battering ram_ to them, left them in shattered clusters in Blaise's chest, and then he burrowed his way deep inside and claimed territory so fiercely that there's barely any space left.

Blaise may have reconstructed the walls, but Theo was already inside of them.

So it hurts to see Theo so alone. But Blaise doesn't want to break the fragile, distant truce they've established.

Until one night Theo forgets the silencing charm.

At first it's just a whimper, a small sound that only wakes Blaise because he's never been a sound sleeper.

But then the paralysis of Theo's dreaming state breaks, and words emerge. They are garbled but decipherable. Blaise almost wishes they weren't.

"Please. No, please. I can't, I can't, I can't. Please, don't hurt him."

All at once, Blaise has had enough. He rolls out of bed, landing on his feet, soft as a cat. He treads across the room to Theo's bed, slips in between his curtains, and casts his own silencing spell.

Theo is curled up into a smaller ball than Blaise would've guessed was possible. His hands are clenched into tight fists, every muscle taut and frozen except for his mouth, through which whimpers are once more escaping.

Blaise finds a pillow and props it against the foot of the bed, reclining in the space below Theo's feet.

Carefully, he begins to murmur. He knows it doesn't matter what he says, so he winds up reciting his mother's favorite poem, unsure, as he does, why that would be the first thing to come to mind.

" _The caged bird sings_  
with a fearful trill  
of things unknown  
but longed for still  
and his tune is heard  
on the distant hill  
for the caged bird  
sings of freedom."

As he finishes the poem and prepares to launch into another, he watches as Theo's fists uncurl as though with great effort. Knowing the nightmare is fading, Blaise reaches out and places a warm hand on the bare skin of Theo's ankle.

"We are the hollow men," he starts, his voice pitched deep and low and soft. "We are the stuffed men."

He feels the tendons in Theo's ankle start to relax their tight grip. Without thinking, he starts to rub circles on Theo's ankle with his thumb.

"Leaning together, headpiece filled with straw. Alas!"

As he works his way through the verses of the Hollow Men, he watches Theo rise gently through the stages of sleep, until Theo's gentle, tired rasp joins him for the end of the last stanza.

"This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but with a whimper."

Blaise snaps his head up to face Theo, who has propped his head up on his elbow and is blinking at him blearily.

"You're in my bed," Theo says eventually. He has a tendency to state the obvious when he's half asleep. A pause, and then, "Am I dreaming?"

Blaise raises an eyebrow at him. "Do you often dream of me in your bed?"

Theo tips his head to the side, looking thoughtful, and Blaise holds in his amusement. "More often than it happens in real life," Theo says eventually.

Blaise feels his amusement fade. He wants to apologize but he's not entirely sure he knows how. "Theo," he says, and the word comes out low and broken and Theo's face sobers, too.

"I thought we weren't doing this," Theo says. "I thought we weren't talking about this. I thought we weren't talking."

"I'm selfish," Blaise finally says, and Theo furrows his eyebrows at him.

"I'm selfish," Blaise repeats. "Maybe if I was a better person I could stay away from you, because I'm clearly awful at relationships and I don't know how to care about someone properly because my childhood was almost as shit as yours was but in different ways and I wasn't strong enough to come out of that and still know how to, to  _care_  like you do."

"Blaise-" Theo tries to interrupt but Blaise keeps going because Theo needs to know this.

"And I  _tried_  to keep my distance from you because I didn't want to get hurt and because if anyone knows they'll hurt you and even if they don't find out  _I'll_ hurt you and I don't want to do that, but I'm too goddamned selfish to sit here and watch you turn into someone I don't recognize because it  _hurts_  and—"

Thank  _god_  Theo shuts him up.

Theo shuts him up by twisting himself into an upright position and then launching himself at Blaise, who catches Theo in his arms without thinking.

Theo curls into his grip and says, softly enough that Blaise almost doesn't catch it, "I missed you."

And Blaise doesn't know how to do anything but grip him tighter, bury his chin into Theo's hair, and whisper, "I missed you too."

It's not until some time later that Theo lifts his head, looks up at Blaise, and says, "I'm still mad at you."

Blaise blinks, then nods. "I understand."

Theo shakes his head, pulling away enough so that he's sitting next to Blaise against the foot of the bed, side pressed against his. "I don't think you do. I'm not mad because you think you're selfish or whatever idiocy it was that you just spouted. I'm not mad that this relationship is a little dysfunctional because neither of us know what we're doing. I'm not mad about any of that."

Blaise frowns at him. "Then what are you mad about?"

Theo inhales audibly. "You don't get to do that, Blaise. You don't get to make choices  _for_  me. You don't get to decide what's best for me. You're allowed to leave me if it's for yourself. If it's what you want, or what you need. But you aren't allowed to leave me for my own good without at least consulting me first."

And when Theo puts it that way, Blaise finds it difficult to argue.

"I… regret hurting you," he finally says. It's as close to an apology as Blaise is able to offer right now, but Theo knows exactly what it means.

"I know you do. And it's in the past. As long as you don't do it again."

Blaise wraps his arm around Theo's shoulder and pulls him tightly to his side. Theo understands that, too.

.

It's not perfect, by any means. The secrecy of it still weighs heavily on Theo.

Theo was not meant for lies and secrecy. Especially not since Draco has been drawing away this year. The summer changed him, too, and Blaise and Theo both know why but they don't talk about it after the first time, when Blaise asks if he's talked to Malfoy recently and Theo answers with, "He's more like me than you know," and Blaise understands. Draco has always been somewhere in between their two extremes but right now he is Theo with less defiance, more self preservation, and without anyone to crawl into his four poster and hold him tight.

Without Draco, Theo feels lonely and isolated. Blaise is still figuring out how to help with this. They fight, far more often than they ever used to, but they're also figuring out how to come back together afterward instead of leaving a chasm between them.

They kiss. A lot. Theo is sixteen and Blaise is seventeen, and somehow that makes Blaise feel responsible for preventing anything  _more_. (This does not, of course, prevent him from imagining Theo, Theo's hands and Theo's hair and  _God_  his glorious mouth.) And maybe he keeps things slow because he's still waiting for Theo to realize that all of this is a mistake and that he could do so much better.

Theo, three days away from seventeen an increasingly impatient, finds out that reason and descends into icy fury

It takes him until his birthday to realize that icy fury is  _not_  getting him what he wants.

Blaise goes to bed near midnight that Friday. Theo's birthday is Saturday. Blaise had wanted to wish him happy birthday at midnight, but he hasn't seen Theo in an hour or two, so he gives up, stripping down to his boxers and a Tshirt and crawling into his four poster.

His very  _occupied_ four poster.

Theo is sprawled out on top of the blankets, head thrown back, wearing nothing but  _Blaise's shirt._  It's a button up, and the top two buttons are undone, Theo's hand shoved through the gap, clearly toying with his nipple.

Since Blaise is taller than Theo, the shirt is too long, covering up a lot but  _not enough._ Theo,s second hand is toying with the tip that peaks out.

Then Theo grips harder, arcs his back, and gasps out, "Blaise," and Blaise is lost.

.

Theo doesn't go home for any of the holidays that year. It's a declaration, as much as anything else would've been.

And maybe it's foolish but at least it's  _Theo._  It's not the broken shell that he'd become.

.

The train ride that June passes mostly in silence, Theo curled into the gap beneath Blaise's right arm.

Dumbledore is dead. Because of Draco. By Snape's hand.

All of this means the tide of the war is turning.

Blaise may be balanced on a delicate knifepoint between the Dark Lord and Potter's allies, but Theo is not. Theo has not formally declared anything, has not fought against his father, but neither has he done what they wanted. Nor will he. Theo cannot be a Death Eater, so though he has declared nothing yet, his side of the war has been chosen. And Blaise will not leave him.

"I have to go home," Theo says.

Blaise knew that he would say this.

"I have to make sure Cat is all right. And my father."

"If anything happens, anything at all, meet me in the alley behind Madam Malkin's. If it's something I'd have heard about, I'll come. If not, owl me. Or Draco, if it isn't urgent."

Theo curls his head tightly into Blaise's chest.

There's nothing else to say.

.

The Ministry falls. Rufus Scrimgeour dies. Blaise finds Draco Malfoy standing on his doorstep, using his silver tongue to talk Blaise's mother into letting him inside.

"I only need a moment of his time, Mrs. Zabini. It's only that he's left something in my possession for the moment, and I thought he could help me improve its condition without the chance of me making a mistake and breaking it."

She turns, sensing Blaise behind her. "Darling, would you care to go with Mr. Malfoy for a moment?"

Draco nods from behind her, but Blaise didn't need the hint. "Of course, mother. Allow me to collect a few things."

Blaise turns on his heel and exits, forcing himself not to rush. He collects the bottomless bag he's had packed since he got home, slips on a cloak, and appears back at the entry.

"I shouldn't be gone too long," he tells his mother simply.

She nods, and he can see the approval in her eyes. He doubts she would still approve if she knew the truth.

Draco grips his shoulder and the pair disappear.

.

They appear at the Leaky Cauldron Apparation point, moving swiftly out of the way and toward Diagon Alley. As they move, Blaise can't help but bump Draco's shoulder.

"Theo's not a possession, you prat."

"Did you really want me to tell your mum that I was watching out for your boyfriend?"

Draco smirks as Blaise scowls at him.

They round the corner of Madam Malkin's and at first Blaise thinks he's under attack, until he realizes that Theo has just hurled himself into Blaise's chest.

"I missed you," Theo says softly. Draco carefully excuses himself and steps away.

Blaise wraps his arms tightly around Theo's shoulders, feeling the solid weight of him.

"What happened?" Blaise finally asks. "Draco said the Minister is dead?"

Theo nods, carefully pulling away and wrapping his arms around himself.

"Thicknese is under the Imperius. They have control of the Ministry, and Hogwarts is next. They mean to turn it into a training facility for new Death Eaters. I can't do it, Blaise. I can't go back there and spend another year pretending that I don't even know you. I… I love you," he says, and the words are soft, meant just for Blaise. It's the first time he's said them. Draco, standing at the end of the alley and keeping watch, shifts his weight from one foot to another.

Blaise is frozen. Theo loves him. Theo loves  _him_. Theo  _loves_  him.

Blaise doesn't know how to love without hurting him. He thinks of his mother, who watched over him and taught him everything but never told him she loved him. She told him love was a fairytale, a notion for children and weaklings. Love, she said, was the reason she could make men dance like pretty little puppets following after her, because they believed in it and she knew better. Love was a myth at best and a frailty at worst. Love was a lie, and it would always, always end. She asked Blaise for his trust and his loyalty, but never his love.

Theo believes in love. Theo believes in soulmates, in belonging to one another. Blaise doesn't know how to belong to someone.

But he does know that Theo is his weakness. Blaise would do anything for Theo — not die for him; that's a stupid, Gryffindor notion. Blaise would never leave Theo alone like that. Dying for someone is selfish. Blaise would never lay that kind of guilt on Theo's shoulders. But he would do anything he could to make Theo smile, anything he could to pull away the sadness that tries to lurk in the slope of his shoulders. He wants Theo to be content, always. He trusts Theo more than he's ever trusted anyone else.

Maybe that's what love is. Maybe loving someone is just…  _letting_  them be your weakness. Because Theo's worth it. Because Theo is his weakness and Blaise doesn't know what he would do without him, so he doesn't care that he'd be stronger — he is not letting Theo go.

Maybe that's enough.

"I… I love you," Blaise tries, and the words feel foreign on his tongue; they don't fit properly in his mouth and they trip past his lips, but then they are out there, in the air, and the light they bring to Theo's face is worth the way Blaise twists up inside, trying to figure out how to mean the words.

Theo steps forward, puts a hand on Blaise's cheek. "I never wanted anyone else, you know? It's not just because you're my colour mate. It's because you're you."

Blaise smiles softly down at him. "You are such a sap." He inhales deeply. "But you're right. We can't go. I wouldn't... I wouldn't be able to watch them hurt you."

Theo wouldn't have been able to stop the smile if he wanted to. "And you call me a sap."

Blaise shakes his head, but he can't deny the fondness in the motion. "I hope you packed."

.

"How the  _fuck_  is this supposed to work?" Theo asks angrily. Blaise looks up just in time to see him catch his legs in the fabric of the tent he's trying to assemble and trip, falling flat on his face. Blaise's mouth twitches.

"I can see you smirking," Theo grumbles into the ground.

Blaise chuckles lightly.

"You could at least help me up."

"Oh, but you're doing so well," Blaise says calmly. In response, Theo lifts a finger at him.

Blaise flicks his wand easily. Theo flails as he feels himself lifted in the air.

"Put me down, you asshole!" Theo is laughing as he says it. Blaise grins at him.

"You told me to help you up." He drops his wand, letting Theo fall beside him gently but gracelessly. Blaise glances at his book once more, then shuts it and gestures with his wand at the tent. The pieces lift themselves into the air and come down in perfect formation.

"Show off," Theo mumbles from where he's now leaning against the tree beside Blaise.

"Muggle," Blaise throws back.

Theo faux-gasps. "How dare you? I try to do one thing without magic, one!"

Blaise wraps an arm around Theo's shoulders and tugs him closer, struck by the sudden realization that he  _can_. Theo tucks his face into the dark skin of Blaise's neck and breathes.

"I love you," Theo says into the small space between them. He says it like he always does, like it's something novel and beautiful. In response, Blaise grips him tighter. The words are still difficult, but Theo understands.

.

At first, it's a bit like an adventure. Sleeping in a tent, curled up next to Theo. Expressing casual affection whenever he gets the urge. Letting himself  _smile_ , easily and brightly, without worrying about who sees it — because only Theo can. Learning the way Theo's skin feels under his fingertips as they skim across cheeks, chest, thighs.

It feels like what's between them is beautiful and new and bright again.

Theo misses Draco in a way that's fierce and throbbing with worry, but he also trusts Draco to handle himself, so it's not a constant worry but rather an ebb and flow, something Theo can ignore most of the time in favor of their stolen bliss.

The year should be dark and desperate and terrifying. But they move around, they keep on their feet, keep wards up, and are ready to pack in an instant, and that is their only reminder that danger is present all around them. Aside from that, they are together without demands from anyone else, without pressures, without the world trying to force them apart. They work for food, filching it when they can, sometimes using the Muggle money Blaise had the foresight to exchange. It's not easy, but nor is it as hard as it could be. It's hiding, but of a different sort than they are used to — it feels less deceptive, more true.

It feels like exactly what they needed in order to build a firm enough base to survive whatever comes.

Because it won't always be like this. While the war has tipped, it hasn't tipped over. It could still fall either way.

If it falls in favour of the Death Eaters, they are traitors. Theo's father will not ever grant leniency, even if anyone else would. If they are ever caught, they will be made an example of — an example of what happens to those who place soulmates above their Lord. They will never be able to stop running.

A year on the run is a haven. Two would be tiring. Eventually, it would begin to foster a bone deep weariness that would tear them apart.

Yet, if it falls in favour of Potter and his allies, they are Slytherins. Cowards, runaways at best. Traitors at worst. Theo's father was a Death Eater, and they have made no declarations. Disappearing is not a declaration of loyalty.

The most they can ask for is forgiveness from those who have too many reasons not to grant it.

They have placed themselves in a dangerous position where neither outcome is particularly desirable.

But dwelling on it doesn't change it. Nothing can change it besides an outright choice, and Blaise is not sure that's better, because it has just as much chance of damming them as it does saving them.

He just curls his arms tighter around Theo and tries not to think too far into the future.

.

In May, Draco's silvery crow patronus glides in on intangible wings, landing on Blaise's shoulder. It opens its beak, and Draco's voice emerges.

"It's over." His voice is soft with relief. "It's over. The Dark Lord is dead. I'll do what I can, just. Come home, Theo."

A subtle tension releases in Theo's shoulders. Blaise exhales a deep breath.

"It's over," Theo says. He is near-breathless with disbelief. "We can go home."

"Where is home?" Blaise can't help but ask. "What home do we have left?"

Theo only smiles lightly at him. "We will make our own. It will be ours, and no one else's."

And that sounds brilliant.

.

They are sprawled across Blaise's bedroom, all three of them. Blaise and Theo are sprawled across his bed, and Draco straddles the desk chair backwards, balancing it easily on two legs.

Blaise's mother is out, as usual. But even when she's in, she seems to have given up on telling Blaise what he can and can't do. He came home, and she wound up tipping her head at him and simply saying, "It worked for you, I suppose."

Blaise tangles his fingers in Theo's, and Draco shakes his head.

"Are you two going to be all mushy now?"

Theo rolls his eyes. "Just because you haven't found your colour mate yet."

"Actually…"

Theo sits straight upright. "What? And you didn't  _tell_  me?"

"We've been a bit  _busy_ ," Draco points out.

"So tell me now!" Theo demands. Blaise, smirking only slightly, slides back so he's propped against the wall. Theo is so close to the edge that only his hips remain on the bed. Draco lets the chair legs fall back.

"My colour mate saw me fight in the final battle," Draco finally says. "Said at first, didn't tell me because they knew I was a Malfoy, didn't know how I would react. The basest idiocy, but… the reasoning might not be wrong. I'm not sure what I would've done in fourth year, finding out my soulmate was a Weasley."

Theo's jaw actually drops. Blaise didn't know that was a literal statement.

" _Ginny_?" Theo gasps.

"Ah, ah, ah," Draco tuts. "Heteronormativity is erasure of perfectly valid identities," Draco says in a sing-song voice. Blaise is pretty sure it's something he once said to Draco.

If possible, Theo's jaw actually drops further. " _No_ ," he says involuntarily. "You're not serious."

Draco smiles softly. "His name is Charlie." It's not a look that Blaise has ever seen on Draco's face before.

Theo doesn't seem to notice the softness. His laugh starts out small, but it grows and grows until he is laughing with his entire body, shaking with the force of it, until he completely falls on the floor. Shock stops him for a moment, before he starts again.

When he finally recovers himself, he gasps out, "That is the best thing I have ever heard. You… Your soulmate is one of the  _Weasley brothers_."

Blaise can't help but smile at him, wry and fond.

Draco glares at him, but there's no heart in it. It's actually a mildly fond glare.

Eventually, Theo sobers. "Do you … I mean, is it okay? Do you like him?"

Draco tips his head, contemplative. "He's a goddamned Gryffindor, but… yeah. I do. I might be able to love him, eventually. He's… kind. Clever."

Theo nods contentedly.

"You told me once, that the colours were stupid. Do you still believe that?"

Draco stills, serious. He tips his head again as he thinks about the question.

Blaise watches a small smile spread, starting in Draco's eyes but growing downward, making his lips twitch.

"No," he says, finally. "They aren't stupid."

.

Blaise's mother might not believe in love. Blaise's mother believes in independence and maintaining impeccable control over every single aspect of life where control is possible.

But Blaise, Blaise has learned to believe in love. Love is strength, not weakness.

His mother was wrong.


End file.
